Just finished cooking for tomorrow's Thanksgiving gathering with my ever-shrinking family. I'm bringing stuff that won't get eaten. That's ok. Hoob won't waste any of it.

Families that shrink in size usually do it due to death. The olds croak. But not the Hoobs.

Our family size shrinks because of feuding. What the fuck, people. Can't we sit around the TV and watch the Lions suck without wanting to kill each other? I guess not. I guess not very much. So, it'll be a 8-10 souls when it could be more. The rest will be off somewhere sulking. Except for the two that are in jail. I forgot about those fuckers.

I wish we could drink. That would solve everything.

Hoob.

Alcohol does seem to have a calming effect at family gatherings.

It's the only thing that makes family tolerable. I can't imagine not drinking on Thanksgiving.

I wish I could have. I'm drinking now. Maybe I'll make an interesting entry in a couple of hours. Maybe I'll just make an entry.

While sitting around with my little family, I wondered what we would do on holidays when my mom dies. She probably has five years left or so. Maybe we can sit around in my yard in the middle of nowhere and eat fried turkey and drink beer. Now that would be a real treat. However, if we had a sleet day like they had when Leon Lett touched the ball, we might not be able to do that.

Passed by a Wal-mart on Thanksgiving night. The parking lot was totally full, and there were a shitload of cars in other stores' parking lots in the area. Hope what I'm about to say doesn't offend any of you. All of those people who shopped there should go and fuck themselves. Let these poor sumbitches who work there have a fucking day of rest, okay? I feel sorry for those who work these jobs. Many cannot just go get a job working 8-5. It took me many years of toil to get out of it and I was lucky to escape it. Oh, and after these shoppers have fucked themselves, they should go back for sloppy seconds. Channel 4 had a piece about this and every shopper they had on was fat as hell and stupid-looking. I hope their $179 big screen TVs go out before March 1, then fall off the wall and land on their crotch-fruit and knock them fucking cross-eyed. Damn, I sound like Don Keyballs.

I imagine the Kenny Chesney halftime show was awful. I'm sure of it. But, I'll never know for sure. His performance was drowned out by people in the room complaining about him.

I don't know that much about football. I was too small to play it in high school. But I do understand the positions, the strategy, and the little stuff about the game. And here comes my opinion about the general public: 95 percent of the people who comment on it are too stupid to comment on it. That was driven home by listening to people comment on the game this afternoon and then the dumbass callers who called into the Norm and Donnie post-game show. If you make Norm sound intelligent, you are a dumbass.

Hoob.

Just found out that the lust of my life went and braved the crowds last night. Kill me now.

Gordon just played a funny blooper from Delkus that went something like this:

"The front will be coming through at about 4:00 am, about the time all of you black shoppers will be standing in line."

Something that I would never post if I was sober:

Aw, fuck it.

Almost ready to tell my adultery story. Almost. I actually have it in a text file. It is interesting. I never ever made a New Year's resolution that came true until this year. I'm going to make a more generic one next time.

This time of the year in baseball exposes the dumbasses who comment on it. Seeing the Twitter comments about the Rangers tonight just reminds me of that.

I wish there was a meter that one could hook up to the liver to see what percent of it is left, sorta like the percentage of life that Wolfenstein used to have. I can picture something like 12 percent left.

Because I no longer live near any bike trails, I haven't sat on a bicycle since August 14, and I rode the road bike 24 miles that day. Got dizzy after I dismounted and actually thought I was about to die. Fail.

I have learned that there are others in their fifties who are miserable and lonely and hate their mates. Some are female. I am exchanging texts with one right now. I wish I could find one that liked men with small feet.

Hoob.

Let's review the 2012 resolutions and see how those went:

1. Go back on the diet I went on back in 2005. Success. Lost 20 pounds, am thin as a rail now.
2. Be neater and more organized. At work this was successful. At home, fail.
3. Make a pass at a woman. Did.
4. Have an affair with a woman. Did. The wildest four months of my life. Had grex in her XTerra, various motels, her house, my house, and even in her son's pickup. I have leftover Viagra in case anybody needs some.
5. Take mountain bike riding to a higher level. Fail. Lost interest.
6. Make myself odious to the technology department at work. Fail. Those fuckers all like me.

The 2013 list:

1. Go back to being Hoob.
2. Become a workout fiend again. I didn't intend to do this in the spring of 2012, but I did. It was wonderful.
3. Get back on the bike. Easier said than done. I look at my bike nowadays and just think, not today, Hoob. That has been going on for months.
4. Be a counselor to people who need it. Certain friends did this for me. I need to do that for someone in 2013.
5. Have an affair with a woman, fucking up my life again.

Hoob.

I had this on my resolution list but after she reviewd it Mrs. Ich made me take it off.

The National Enquirer is reporting that John Edwards and Rielle Hunter's recent sexcapades are so loud, the neighbors are complaining.

This guy is looked at unfavorably by many because he cheated on his dying wife with this woman. His wife has been dead for a long time. Let him have some nookie.

When the original scandalous story came out, I laughed at the left for damning the Enquirer for "making the story up," and I laughed at the right for their stupid righteous indignation. However, Mr. Edwards could have handled this most recent episode a little better.

Take it from Hoob, John: when you need to knock off an old piece, do it out of the earshot of the neighbors. Not everyone wants to hear you sounding like you have fallen and you can't get up.

Hoob.

By the way, I had a liver enzymes check a couple of weeks ago. Passed with flying colors. I was shocked.

Is it really necessary for the Weather Channel to start naming storms? I already hate those sonofabitches greatly because it's just reality TV now and has been for years. And now, this.

http://blogs.courier-journal.com/watchd ... r-channel/

No, it is not. Very self serving by The Weather Channel.

Sitting at the house in Denton. It won't be long before neighborhood Mexicans pepper the skies with gunfire. They never disappoint me.

Is there a more unstable job in the world than being in management in pro football? Damn. Today, there were numerous heads lopped off all around the league. With all of that, many fans are disappointed that their coach and/or GM didn't get the axe. I just want my team's GM to die. Is that wrong?

I am a huge Linux Fanboi. Dealing with Windows and Mac OSes every day at work is a pain. I prefer Linux for most tasks at home. However, getting that crap to accept network printing from Windows or Mac computers is a gargantuan pain in the ass. I finally got it to work tonight, but it required quite a bit of research plus a couple of beers.

This year, 2012, was the best year and the worst year of my life and I hope I never equal it. I have spent so much money on so many things because of the fucked-upness of it all. Enough, already.

Hoob.

I am buzzing from a $5 bottle of Brut Champagne. Shit is gross.

One of those tastes kinda good but I can't remember if it's that one. Never consumed enough to get a buzz, though.

I think I would feel better trying to get a buzz from a bottle of Brut cologne.

And I think I'm officially old. Mrs. bigboy and I have gotten together with the same group of friends for NYE for the last decade or so. We got kinda butthurt a few years ago when everyone backed out for various reasons and we did the sad and pathetic bring in the new year at home by ourselves. Fast forward to last night: I had to be dragged out of the house kicking and screaming and I was packing our shit up to leave and standing by the front door at 11:30.

Damn, it won't be long before you are yelling at kids to get off your lawn.

- "Butthurt? Try unfriending."

I had a quiet night with the family and I fell asleep at 11:30. Just another day.

My buddy texted me and asked if there would be a gathering this Friday for my birf and I told him I was most likely gonna help put the kids to bed and just chill at the house. Now that's a sign of getting old.

This is not the one that tastes good. I cut it with 2 parts OJ but it was still nasty. Finally I just started chugging it to forget the taste, teeth, mother and my fucked up life. Woke this morning with a satisfying hangover headache. First one I've had in years.

Getting old is awesome. Smoked some ribs, drank some Shiraz, played some gin, watched TWD marathon until 11:55, turned it to ABC for the next 5 minutes, made out with my wife and went to bed. I managed to make it to 12:00 for the first time in 3 years. Probably wont happen next year.

Baby # 3 in September.

yay! Congrats!

Let's talk about those boobs, darlin'.

I have made three trips to the doctor in the past month. The previous two, I have been sitting down while getting my blood pressure done, then noticed that my outstretched hand was cupping the nurse's boob. While getting my blood pressure done today, I made it a point to NOT have my hand touching her. Unfortunately, I started thinking about how funny this was and had to stifle a laugh. I ended up biting my lip to control myself.

She was a big girl, so it's not like I actually wanted to cup one of those things.

My best friend once fucked a girl who had enormous tits. At work the next Monday, I was praising him for his conquest. He said that he could barely perform, because they were so gross that they fell off to the side. This lesson remained with me 35 years later.

I have had two girlfriends who were flat as a board. Both were really good at bedding old Hoob, and no one else came close. On various message boards, I have seen many times that fat girls were demons in the sack, but I say that this is not true. In fact, I'd say that flat girls are first, redheads are second, perfect girls are third, my hand is fourth, and fat girls are sixth. I'll let one of you guys tell me where sheep and goats rank.

Give me the flat girl over the fat girl.

Hoob.

Monday, an employee from another building came by and said that he needed someone to go to lunch with, and I was the only one available. So I went. After I got in the car with him, I found out that he was sick with a cold. This made me nervous, to be cooped up in a car with the guy. Today I found out he has the flu. Dammit to hell so much.

I have had a flu shot this year, as usual. Since I started getting them five years ago, I have been sick less than I ever have been in my life. I went from getting four or five colds every single year to none or one per year. Your mileage may vary. I know, there is the various strain thing, blah, blah, blah.

I heard the Musers talking about flu shots this morning, and Gordo was talking about e-mails and Tweets he got from conspiracy nuts who said they were putting mercury in your body, they were totally pointless, etc. I was yelling at the radio that these people were the same ones sending in lobster claw stories.

I have a strange outlook about drugs and the body. I'll drink anything you put in front of me and I'll take a flu shot that for all I know, is just pig blood. But I won't take a prescription unless I'm nearly dying.

I am odd. I am Hoob.

That IS odd.

did you find the PO

Are you talking to Hoob or me?

You're not gonna believe this...

Nine times out of ten I agree about flats. However, after my first experience with them I'd have disagreed. You see, Hoob, there was a flattish across the street neighbor lady from like 30 years ago who used to drive me and my best friend (and also my next door neighbor) crazy. She'd always parade around in her front yard in shorts and a bikini top. I'm guessing she and her husband were like mid to late 20's. Anyways, she was outside a lot. Always bikini topped. The stringed kind. I'd get mesmerized by those boobs and she was always doing outdoor stuff too like mowing or just standing in the yard drinking Miller ponies whilst holding a garden hose to the St. Augustine. You'd think you were on the set of Cool Hand Luke when she'd grab the soap bucket and go to town on their Cutlass. She had to know it drove us crazy. One time we were shooting hoops in their backyard. She was back there too, laying out on the trampoline, all lathered up in coconut scented Hawaiian Tropic and Wesson. Oh the yearning pain of aching nuts. Sometime during this period it was getting to be evening time and my bud and I were chasing lightning bugs in their back yard and noticed her through unshut blinds. We peeping tom'd her ass like a mug. It was kind of like that Rod Stewart Infatuation video when you were witnessing a chick untethering her top from behind and you get glimpses of flopping side boob. I was loving it until she turned around and we got a full frontal assault of east/west drooping fried-egginess. It was also jarring to see real live boob for the first time divided in a state of neopolitan colorings from various degrees of sun exposure. The worst were her nipples tho. They looked like He Man shields made from uncooked bacon. The horror.

But of bacon.

Wow, that was awesome.

I did not get the flu. However, for the first time ever, I have some sort of sinus issue according to my doctor. Uh-oh. I'm thinking about changing my avatar to the odd thing that Ceepee had going on.

For some reason, when I think of that guy, I always think of the podcast where Walt yelled at him, "Fuck you, Ceepee, Fuck you!"

Covered high school basketball tonight for a little newspaper, and I was treated to dumbassery from the fans in the stands. I witnessed the following: 1) moms from opposing sides yelling at each other across the court, and, 2) an official stopping the game to deal with a dumbass who couldn't control his 78 IQ-having mouth. Both were awesome and made me glad that I was there.

Getting closer to my awful goal. What if I meet it before January 31?

-"It's probably just a head cold, hoob. You'll be fine."

On reflection, ceepe wasn't that bad of a guy and Walt shouldn't have killed him.

If you are offended by the thought of old people and sex, you probably shouldn't read this.

When I was 21 and working in a grocery store, I remember looking at 40 year olds and wondering if she was still having sex. Would she be worth it, I wondered? No way, I thought. Kids had fallen out of that thing, and I was lusting after her kids. There was no way I would be interested in that sort of thing when I was even 35.

Not long after that, I walked in on my parents screwing. They were in their forties. Thank goodness they were under the covers. It shattered everything I thought about the subject.

Fast forward to thirty years later. I'm in my fifties and have related to multiple women in their fifties. The thing is, it was really good and maybe better than I have ever had. I have experienced nookie on the levels that are unequaled. I am pretty sure that I'm not finished, either. The way things are going, it will be a matter of time before I copulate with someone who is a grandparent. It is unthinkable, but it is gonna happen. I'm so scared, baby.

Where does this end? In my sixties? Seventies? Are the aides at some nursing home going to be peeking to see if Hoob gets lucky again?

I saw her today and we chatted about 30 minutes in the sunshine. It is just a matter of time.